‘Just because,’ Ronan said defiantly.
Kevin’s expression was more rueful. ‘We got carried away … I’m sorry James, especially after you helped me out on the hike.’
The boys were young and this was probably the point where James would have accepted an apology and sent them back to bed with a dire warning and a kick up the arse; but Kazakov had other plans.
‘Rifles, James,’ he ordered.
James handed each of the trainees one of the M4s they’d used to fire the simunitions earlier on.
‘Now,’ Kazakov grinned. ‘Hold them up above your heads and commence running on the spot, raising your knees high, thusly.’
Kazakov did a little demonstration. It looked easy enough, but the trainees were half asleep and the heavy packs, rifles and heat made it hard work.
Within a minute, both lads had sweat streaking out of their hair. Then Kazakov walked behind Kevin and kicked his feet from beneath him. The boy crashed forward, with the weight of his pack pinning him to the floor and the heavy rifle digging into his chest.
‘Did I give you permission to stop running?’ Kazakov grinned, as he kicked dust into Kevin’s gaping eyes and mouth. ‘On your feet, prom queen.’
Kazakov turned towards James as Kevin began running on the spot again. ‘Kick Ronan.’
This only served to remind James that he’d never make a good training instructor. Ronan had acted pretty nasty when he’d tied James up; he was also a bully who didn’t hesitate to drop the weaker trainees in it when an exercise went wrong. But he was still just a kid and James didn’t want to hurt him.
Mr Kazakov wasn’t impressed. He shoved James aside before slamming his dilapidated boot into the soft flesh between Ronan’s hip bone and rib cage. It knocked the boy sideways with such force that he clattered into Kevin and both lads ended up back on the ground, with their limbs tangled and coughing as they breathed the dust kicked up by running on the spot.
‘Get up, stand still, rifles held high.’
It took the two gasping boys half a minute to stop coughing and stand in line with their rifles above their heads.
‘OK,’ Kazakov grinned, as he looked at his watch. ‘It’s now sixteen minutes until one. Sunrise is at six-thirty. You will stand to attention with your rifles held high until then. If I see you move off the spot or stop or if the rifle drops I’ll come out and make both of you run till you either puke or pass out.’
‘Can I go to the toilet first?’ Kevin asked.
Mr Kazakov shook his head. ‘You can hold it in, or piss your pants. I don’t care which, but if you move off that spot before morning you’ll be sorry.’
Kevin glanced at James as if to say can you help us out, but James didn’t like appearing weak in front of Kazakov and he didn’t have the authority to help even if he tried.
‘A soldier is only as tough as the person who trains them,’ Kazakov said, as he and James started the short walk back to their tent.
James tried to explain as he unzipped the tent and stepped inside. ‘It’s just – they’re not perfect but … They’re nice little kids. You know?’
Kazakov grunted. ‘I’ve seen a lot of men die, James. Some of them weren’t much older than you and a lot of them would still be around if they’d been trained by someone like me instead of someone like you.’
As Kazakov sat on the edge of his fold-up bed and began unlacing his boots, James realised that he needed to pee before going to bed and stepped back out of the tent.
He couldn’t bear to look at the moonlit silhouettes of Kevin and Ronan, with their arms struggling to hold the rifles in the air. He cut through the gap between the command tent and his own as Dana’s torch suddenly lit up his face.
‘All right big man?’ she sneered. ‘Proud of yourself?’
James tutted and shook his head. ‘You should have been there when they tied me up, Dana. It was basically high spirits with Kevin, but Ronan’s a nasty piece of work.’
‘Two wrongs never make a right,’ Dana said.
‘I hate helping out with training,’ James moaned. ‘I know why CHERUB does it, I know they have to, but I’m not cut out for it. Pushing little kids around is depressing. I’m starting to think about seeing Meryl and asking to take extra exams instead.’
‘At least you’re flying home in the morning.’
James looked surprised. ‘You what?’
‘I guess Pike didn’t get a chance to tell you. There are only seven trainees now and Jo’s got a broken ankle so she needs someone to fly back to Britain with her.’
‘Sweet,’ James grinned. ‘I could kill for a proper shower and a dossy night in front of the telly.’
Dana grinned back reluctantly. ‘Anyway, I’m shattered and we’ve all got to be up in five hours.’
‘Do I get a goodnight kiss?’
Dana was almost as tall as James and she gave him a gentle peck. ‘Not that you deserve it after you snitched on little Kev.’
‘I reckon he’ll survive,’ James shrugged. ‘Pike clearly doesn’t want another trainee to fail.’
James pecked Dana back then tried going for a full-on snog, but she wouldn’t have it.
‘I’m too tired.’
‘But we might not get another chance until we’re back on campus.’
‘Whatever,’ Dana shrugged. ‘All I want is sleep.’
‘Night then,’ James said, sounding a touch wounded.
As they backed away from each other, Dana whispered a warning. ‘And don’t go anywhere near the third bush on the left beside the big tree. I just did something that you wouldn’t want to put your boot in.’
9. WOOF
Meatball was an eleven-month-old beagle. Bred for experimentation, the little dog had been rescued by James Adams’ sister Lauren when they’d infiltrated an animal rights group the previous summer.
CHERUB agents aren’t allowed to keep pets, so when the mission was over Meatball ended up living with chairwoman Zara Asker and her family in their detached house half a kilometre from CHERUB campus.
Although Zara’s kids got rough at times, Meatball had settled into a comfortable routine, with a cosy dog basket beside the sofa, a big garden to run around and visitors from campus who made a fuss and took him for walks.
But on this particular Thursday, Meatball had worked out that something was wrong. Zara or Ewart always brought the kids home from nursery before it got dark. None of the house lights were on, his water bowl was dry and he ended up huddled under the telephone table, where he usually went to sulk after getting yelled at for chewing something.
Meatball sprang up when he heard a key in the front door and started barking when he recognised Lauren’s smell through the letterbox.
‘Hello, Meatball,’ Lauren said fondly, as she ran her hands through his bristly coat and felt his tongue lap at her bare ankle. ‘Is you a lonely doggykins? Did they all go out and leave you on your own?’
Meatball had reached adult size, but he was still a young dog and he liked to play. Lauren hadn’t visited for over a week and was pleased to see him, but she couldn’t get Gabrielle’s fight for life out of her mind. The whole of CHERUB campus was on tenterhooks.
Meatball scratched at the door, wanting a walk, then realised it was feeding time as Lauren headed for the kitchen. She flicked on the light and reached into the cupboard above the oven. Lauren was vegetarian, and it pleased her that the Askers had stuck to their promise to feed the animal she’d given them with vegetarian food.
After refilling the water bowl, Lauren snipped open the plastic food packet and smiled when she found Meatball standing with his tail wagging and a set of legs on either side of his food dish. He’d never sussed out that you can’t put the food into a bowl if you stand on top of it.
‘Dozy dog,’ Lauren complained, as she lifted up his back legs and squeezed the packet of food into the bowl.
The result looked uncannily like a turd, but Meatball stuck his head in the bowl and began wolfing his dinner as the p
hone in Lauren’s jeans started to vibrate. It was her friend, Rat. He’d been Lauren’s boyfriend for a while, but they were both only twelve and after a couple of months the novelty of snogging had worn off and they’d gone back to being mates.
‘Hey,’ Lauren said urgently. ‘What’s happened?’
Rat was under strict instructions to ring Lauren with news about Gabrielle, on pain of an arse-kicking if he forgot.
‘Still in surgery the last we heard,’ Rat said, in his Australian accent. ‘We thought you might know something, seeing as Ewart asked you to check on the dog.’
Lauren tutted. ‘Maybe Meatball will open up on the matter after his sachet of VeggyPet, but I wouldn’t put money on it.’
‘OK, don’t bite my head off. We just thought there was a chance you might have heard something.’
‘So what’s going on up there?’
‘They’ve turned on the heating in the chapel. The vicar is coming in from the village and everyone who wants to can go and light a candle.’
Rat had spent the first eleven years of his life living in a strict religious commune, and tended to freak out at the slightest mention of religion.
‘Are you going?’ Lauren asked.
‘I guess … I don’t think there’s anyone on campus who won’t be there.’
‘It’s so sad,’ Lauren said, as she felt a lump in her throat. ‘Listen, I’ve got to take Meatball for his walk, but I’ll be back on campus within an hour. Maybe we can go and do the candle thing together.’
‘So will Meatball be on his own all night?’
Lauren shook her head as she sniffed slightly. ‘Ewart should be home with Joshua and Tiffany by the time I get back from walkies.’
‘Try not to worry,’ Rat said. ‘She’s in surgery now; they’re doing all they can.’
‘I’ll see you later,’ Lauren said, then shut the call off because she felt tears coming on for the third time that day. She hadn’t been this sad since her mum died. She looked enviously down at Meatball as he licked up the last of his food. She reckoned it would be nice to have nothing do but play, sleep and eat VeggyPet.
‘You greedy pig,’ Lauren said, managing a smile as she slid her hand along Meatball’s back. ‘How could a little dog like you eat that so fast?’
Meatball jumped up on Lauren’s leg as she picked up his lead. When he was a puppy Meatball used to make a big fuss about having his lead hooked on, but now he knew that it meant he was going for a walk and he sat to attention while she hooked it to his collar.
As Lauren slammed the front door and started walking down the patio, she noticed an oversized figure moving through the shadows on the other side of the wall. She froze when she realised it was the hulking figure of the legendary training instructor, Norman Large.
‘Oh it’s you,’ Large said.
Following his heart attack seven months earlier, Mr Large had run off a lot of weight and slowly brought himself back to peak fitness. He lived with his partner and daughter in the house next door to the Askers’ and had spent the last hour pumping weights in his garage. His sweatshirt was darkened with sweat.
‘Hello, sir,’ Lauren said awkwardly. She’d once knocked Mr Large out after losing her temper during a training exercise and their relationship hadn’t improved since.
‘Where are you off to?’ Large said, trying to sound friendly. ‘Come over here for a minute. I’ve been hoping to bump into you at some stage.’
Although Mr Large had been on sick leave for half a year, he was still a member of the CHERUB staff and Lauren had to treat him with respect. But she hated the man’s guts and certainly didn’t want a full-blown conversation.
‘I’ve got to take Meatball for his walk and then I’ve got to get back to campus and do my homework.’
‘It’ll only take a minute,’ Large grinned, as Lauren reluctantly stepped across the dark patio, setting off the motion-sensitive light over the Askers’ garage door. ‘As you know, I’ve got to face a disciplinary panel before I can have my job back, because of the erm … unfortunate incident leading up to my heart attack last year.’
Lauren smiled acidly. ‘You mean the fact that you went to the pub and got hammered when you were supposed to be in charge of a bunch of kids.’
Large smiled awkwardly back. ‘Well that’s not really fair…’
‘Well you certainly didn’t look sober from where I was sitting.’
‘OK, I was drunk on duty,’ Large admitted. ‘I know that you and I have never really gotten along, but you were the only senior agent who saw the state I was in before my heart attack that night. Your evidence could be the deciding factor in whether I get my job back after the hearing on Friday next week.’
Lauren enjoyed having some power over Mr Large. After all the times he’d bullied her and made her suffer, he was now reduced to begging her to lie on his behalf.
‘I won’t exaggerate,’ Lauren said firmly. ‘But I am going to tell the truth, which is that you’d had a skinful of beer and you could hardly walk.’
Mr Large changed the subject. ‘He’s a nice little dog, Meatball, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah,’ Lauren nodded.
‘You seem especially fond of him.’
‘He’s really cool; I just wish I’d been able to keep him in my room on campus.’
‘Mmm,’ Large said. ‘But he’s tiny. I mean, very fragile. And I was thinking, if you tell that inquiry that I was drunk, they’ll never reinstate me as an instructor. I could be pottering around this house all day with little Meatball right next door and it would be so easy for an accident to occur.’
‘What?’ Lauren choked.
‘Oh, you know. Maybe I could step on his little spine and crush him. Or he could get tangled under my lawnmower, or Saddam and Thatcher could accidentally get over the garden fence and maul him …’
Lauren was stunned. ‘You’re blackmailing me? How can you? He’s an innocent little dog!’
Mr Large nodded. ‘And if I get my job back, he’ll stay an innocent little dog.’
‘You … you bastard,’ Lauren shouted. ‘Only a scumbag like you could come out with a scheme as low as this.’
Mr Large broke into one of his most satanic grins. ‘Temper, temper, little lady.’
‘Zara won’t stand for it if you kill Meatball. She’s the chairwoman; she’s connected to some of the most powerful people in the country.’
Large shrugged. ‘I’ll say it was an accident and nobody will ever prove that it wasn’t.’
‘I can’t believe you,’ Lauren said, as she stepped backwards. ‘You’re barely even human, do you know that?’
‘I’m only asking for one little favour,’ Mr Large coaxed. ‘And you know, Meatball’s pelt would be just the right size for a nice winter hat.’
‘Come on, Meatball,’ Lauren said, tugging on the lead as she started walking towards the road.
She tried not to let the fear show in her voice, but she was shaking all over.
10. CANDLES
The chapel was one of the few buildings on campus that had existed before CHERUB was founded. The humble stone church had served a rural parish from the 1780s until the entire area was commandeered by the government during World War Two.
With pews for fewer than eighty, it was too small for major occasions like Christmas carol services, and the various faith groups on campus preferred using more comfortable meeting rooms in the main building. But the drafty chapel remained the spiritual heart of campus and when lit by candles the uneven walls and cobwebbed roof beams were as emotive as the grandest cathedral.
More than a hundred candles had been placed around the framed photograph of Gabrielle on a long table. James’ best mate Kyle Blueman and his ex-girlfriend Kerry Chang stood at the entrance, handing candles to the procession of cherubs and staff. They each took a turn, stepping up to the table and lighting their candle before standing it with the others.
Kyle stood in the chapel entrance facing CHERUB’s death-in-service memorial.
The names of four agents were carved on its stone surface:
Johan Urminsk
1940–1954
Jason Lennox
1944–1954
Katherine Field
1951–1968
Thomas Webb
1967–1982
There was space for more names and everyone hoped Gabrielle O’Brien wouldn’t be the next.
‘We’ll need more candles in a minute,’ Kerry whispered, as she looked under the fold-out table in front of them and realised that she was on the last box.
Kyle nodded. ‘There’s a load more in the vestry. I’ll go and fetch them.’
But as Kyle turned away, his mobile phone chimed into life. Evil eyes came at him from all directions.
‘Turn that thing off,’ Dennis King – one of the senior mission controllers – said stiffly, as several kids tutted.
‘Sorry,’ Kyle grimaced, but as he pulled the phone out of his top he saw the name Michael Hendry on the display. He dived around the table and into the graveyard outside as he flipped the phone open.
‘Michael, how’s it going?’
‘I can think of better days,’ Michael said, as Kyle realised he’d sounded too flippant. ‘Just wanted to call someone for a chat, you know?’
Kyle had recently turned seventeen. Despite a reputation as a con-merchant, he was well liked and a lot of people came to him for advice.
‘I’m here whenever,’ Kyle said. The wind blew through the darkness as he crouched beside the headstone of a long-dead farmer to stop the buffeting in his ear. ‘Are you still at the hospital?’
‘Nah, I’m back at the Zoo – that’s the care home we’ve been living in. They’re talking about pulling our mission, but I put up a fight so they’re letting me carry on for now.’
‘Are you sure it’s safe?’
‘I’m sure it’s not safe,’ Michael said bluntly. ‘Another gang just declared war, but me and Gab have put two months into this. I want to carry on and I know she’d be the same if I’d taken the knife.’
‘Maybe you would be better off back at campus,’ Kyle said tactfully. ‘It sounds like you got into a serious row and the cops will be after you, won’t they?’
Mad Dogs Page 6